


devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

by buddiebuddie



Series: white house AU [3]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Jealous Eddie Diaz, M/M, President Evan Buckley, Smut, Special Agent Eddie Diaz, White House AU, buck has a praise kink, but then lovers duh, i guess friends, lowkey enemies to ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddiebuddie/pseuds/buddiebuddie
Summary: "This candidate. Evan Buckley. He, uh, needs someone to reign him in.”“What do you mean?” Eddie asked.“Oh, you’ll see.”And see, Eddie did.Nearly two years before Buck is elected to the presidency, Eddie is assigned to lead his Secret Service detail. Like, love, hate, and mutual annoyance ensue, though not necessarily in that order.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: white house AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677313
Comments: 98
Kudos: 441





	1. in the quiet of the night

**Author's Note:**

> a prologue of sorts! will def be adding to this but might be a little while between updates  
> title from cruel summer (big time bop, 10/10 rec)

It’s the middle of October when the Director of the Secret Service calls Eddie into his office first thing in the morning. 

“You’re reassigning me?” Eddie clarifies. He’d been working in the White House since he joined the agency three years ago, so to change up his assignment out of the blue like this is... unexpected, to say the least. 

“Well, next year’s an election year,” the Director says, repeating what he had already explained a few moments ago, when he told Eddie he’d be working on the Buckley campaign effective tomorrow. “It’s time to start assigning protection to candidates. At this point, one of them could very well be the next President.” 

“I understand,” Eddie nods. He understands the need for the shift in assignments perfectly fine. What he doesn’t understand is why he’s the one essentially being demoted out of nowhere. “Sir, I have to wonder. Being taken off of the White House detail like this… is there an issue with my job performance?”

The Director smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Quite the opposite, Eddie. I need my best and brightest on this one. You were hand picked.” 

“Why?”

“This candidate,” he says, chuckling to himself. “Evan Buckley. He, uh, needs someone to reign him in.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

The Director just raised his eyebrows, closed the folder on the desk in front of him, and said, “Oh, you’ll see.” 

And see, Eddie did. It took him all of fifteen seconds in Buck’s presence to realize exactly what the Director had meant. By the end of his first day on the Buckley campaign, Eddie had watched the future President jump out of the car at a stop light to talk to a group of people on the curb, give a constituent his personal cell phone number, and quite literally hop a barricade to get closer to a crowd at a rally. Eddie had a stress headache by ten a.m., and it’s only raged harder as the day progressed. Now, Eddie looks on as Buck sits on the edge of the stage, chatting with a young couple who lingered as the rest of the rally crowd thinned out. When Buck doesn’t even blink when one of the women starts rooting around in her purse, Eddie thinks he might have an aneurysm. 

He crosses the stage, grabbing Buck by the bicep and pulling him up. “Apologies, ladies,” he says with a polite nod before hauling him off the stage.

“What the hell, man?” Buck demands. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Eddie asks. “Really, I want to know.” 

“Relax, dude.” 

“What’s to say she didn’t have a gun in there? A knife?” 

Buck shrugs. “I got a good vibe.” 

“You got a good vibe,” Eddie repeats. 

“I’m a good judge of character.” 

“A good judge of character,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s rich. You hear that, Hen?” He calls over his shoulder to where she’s standing by the stage door exit. “Pull the car around. We can go back to the White House. He doesn’t need the Secret Service. He’s a good judge of character.” 

Hen shakes her head. “Play nice, Eddie.” 

When Eddie was assigned here, he got to pick a team to join him. Hen, Chim, and Bobby were a no brainer. There was no one he worked better with, and the four of them seemed to just _get_ each other on a level none of them had ever experienced with their other colleagues. 

He scowls at her. She’s supposed to be on his side. 

“Yeah, Eddie,” Buck smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Play nice.” 

Six weeks in and it’s since turned into a game of sorts. Buck does anything he can to screw with Eddie, whether it’s lingering too long when talking hands with supporters, tweeting out what hotel he’s staying at and hosting impromptu meet and greets in the lobby, or leaning his head out the window of the campaign bus at red lights to wave to people on the streets. 

He always gets a rise out of watching Eddie tense up, his eyes all but burning straight through Buck’s skin as he watches him with hawk-like precision. He chases the high that comes with knowing he’s getting under Eddie’s skin, lives for seeing a flush creep up Eddie’s neck as he tries to keep from exploding. 

Buck isn’t the only one playing, of course. Oh, no. Whenever it’s Eddie’s turn to watch the hallway outside Buck’s hotel room overnight, he’s sure to pound on the door as soon as the sun makes its first appearance in the sky. The look on Buck’s face when he pulls the door open – mixed with whatever round of insults and swear words he manages to string together, his voice still thick with sleep – well, it’s worth it every time. 

The ceasefire doesn’t come for a while. Not until a campaign stop in Charlotte, two months after Eddie’s arrival. Anytime a campaign trip is long enough to warrant a hotel stay, the agents pair off and work opposite shifts. It’s Eddie and Bobby’s turn to work overnight, with Eddie stationed outside Buck’s hotel room door and Bobby at the vestibule with the elevators and staircase entrance. 

Eddie’s leaning against the wall, reading through the next day’s itinerary when he hears a muffled sound coming from the other side of the door. 

He checks the time. 2:06 a.m. There’s no way Buck is awake. The man loves his sleep more than anything on this earth– Eddie knows there’s just no chance he wasn’t asleep the second his head hit the pillow around midnight. 

Pocketing his phone, he steps closer to the door, pressing his ear up against the wood in an attempt to hear better. 

“No!” 

That’s Buck’s voice, laced with fear. Eddie doesn’t wait. He’s moving before his mind has a chance to catch up.

He’s in the room in a matter of seconds. He rushes in, gun drawn and held close to his body as he scans the room. “You okay?” he calls out. He listens for a response as he knees open the bathroom door, peeking behind the shower curtain. It doesn’t come. 

He looks in the closet. “Buck?” he tries again, jumping up from where he had dropped to his knees to check under the bed. The room is empty, save for Buck, alone in the king bed, his eyes screwed shut and hands balled into fists. 

“No, please!” 

Eddie holsters his weapon, crossing over to the bed. 

“Hey,” he says gently, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him. 

Buck kicks his legs violently, his breath ragged as he thrashes in his sleep. Eddie’s chest tightens as he realizes what’s happening. 

Buck continues to suck in lungfuls of air, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath, sweat-damp curls stuck to his forehead. Eddie pulls the holster off his belt and places it on the nightstand, kicking off his shoes before climbing into the bed beside him. 

He kneels beside Buck, returning a hand to his shoulder and shaking gently. “Hey, come on,” he says, voice quiet and calm. “Buck, hey.” 

It isn’t until Eddie moves his hands to either side of Buck’s face that his eyes fly open. “I got you,” Eddie says. Buck is fighting him, pushing up against his hands and gasping for air. “Hey, it’s me,” Eddie’s voice is calm, grounding as he maneuvers himself so that he’s seated on the mattress. He wraps his arms around Buck, pulling his back against his chest and holding him close. “I got you. You’re safe. It’s okay. I’m here, I got you.” 

Buck clutches Eddie’s arm, hugging it to his chest as his breathing begins to even out. “Shh,” Eddie murmurs, finding comfort in the steady beat of his own heart. “I got you,” he repeats. 

“I--” Buck begins, the words getting stuck around the lump in his throat. 

“I get them too,” Eddie whispers, his own admission shocking him as the words crossed his lips. “Afghanistan.” 

Buck nods, still trying to push down the vivid visions from his years as a Navy SEAL. “Yeah,” is all he manages to get out. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Eddie replies. “Trust me, I get it.” 

Buck nods, but he doesn't release his hold on Eddie’s arm. In fact, he all but melts into Eddie’s touch, finding comfort in the feel of Eddie’s chest against his back. It’s grounding and secure and safe all at once. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Buck closes his eyes, taking a long, shaky breath. Eddie doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s hard at work willing away the nightmare-inducing memories that are no doubt waiting to take over as soon as he manages to find sleep again. 

“C’mere,” Eddie insists, laying down. Wrapping his arms around the taller man once more, Eddie pulls him to his chest and holds him tightly. “It helps when you’re not alone.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” Buck says after a minute. “I know you hate me.”

“Not even a little,” Eddie says honestly. “Though I do hate what little regard you seem to have for your own safety.” 

“I love the people, though,” Buck replies. “Everything I do is for them.” 

“You can love the people from a safe distance,” Eddie says. “Listen. I’ve been doing this long enough to know who’s full of shit and who’s now. And I...” his voice trails off as he searches for the right words. “I believe in you. You’re going to be president. And you’re going to do incredible things for this country. But not if you’re dead. So you have to let me do my job. And it would help if you weren’t an asshole about it.” 

Buck is silent for a minute. “You really think I’m gonna win?” 

“ _So_ not the point.” 

“Fine,” Buck grins, craning his neck to face him. “I’ll let you do your job. But only if you let me sleep until a human hour.”

Eddie can’t keep the smile off his face. Not that he tries, though. “Deal. Truce?”

“Truce,” Buck confirms. They fall into a comfortable silence, though it’s broken after a few minutes when Buck whispers, “Eddie?”

“Hmm?” 

“You said it helps when you’re not alone. Do you...” his voice trails off as he tries to figure out how to best word the question he knows he has no business asking. “Are you married?”

Eddie makes a point to keep his private life just that, especially in his line of work. But something about Buck, something about the way their legs seem to slot together perfectly beneath the hotel bedspread, something about the way all the walls around the two of them came down so effortlessly tonight, something brings the truth out of Eddie without any hesitation. “Not anymore,” he says. 

“Sorry, shit, that’s none of–”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Eddie insists. “We just didn’t work. It took seven years, three tours and a child to figure it out, but we got there eventually. We’re cool now, though.”

“You have a kid?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and Buck swears he can feel him relax as he says it. “Christopher. He’s four.” 

“What are you doing following me around the country if you’ve got a kid at home?” 

“My job,” Eddie replies. 

Buck doesn’t like that. “Eddie,” he says. “You should be with your son, not riding my campaign bus around the Bible Belt.”

“We’re at campaign headquarters Maryland most of the time,” Eddie says. “He’s with his mom when we’re on the road. If it’s a long trip, I fly back for a day if I can. My grandma helps, too. Kid’s got a whole tribe looking after him.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck.” 

Buck opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out except a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry I was such a dick to you.”

“Me, too,” Eddie admits. 

When Buck opens his eyes, it’s because someone’s pounding on the door like their life depends on it. “Eddie, enough!” he groans, covering his head with a pillow. 

“Not me.” The quiet voice coming from just a few inches from his head is enough to make Buck all but fall right out of the bed. He shoots up straight, curls sticking up in every direction, blue eyes wild as he tries to register what’s happening. 

The events from last night rush back, memories rolling in like high tide at sunset. Buck would relax, would sigh and drop his head back down onto the pillows, would shove Eddie playfully and make a joke about sleeping together but not really, if not for that goddamn knocking. 

As Buck climbs out of bed with a dissatisfied groan, Eddie sits up against the headboard. He’s kind of panicking, his heart racing at the realization that he fell asleep and stayed all night. He hadn’t meant to, had all intentions of heading back out to his post as soon as Buck was able to fall back asleep. This was _not_ the plan and happens to be so far over the line Eddie thinks he might be sick. “Check the peephole,” he says.

Buck turns his head, scowling at him over his shoulder. “You really think I’m that dumb?” he hisses.

“Well, with your track record it wouldn’t exactly be the biggest jump to a conclusion in the history of man,” Eddie shoots back. Buck sticks his middle finger in the air before looking through the peephole. 

“What’s up, Bobby?” he calls through the door. 

“Wheels up in ten,” he replies, the sound of his voice muffled by the door between them.

Buck swears under his breath. He hadn’t realized how late it was.“Got it!” he calls back. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Eddie is, would you?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he says slowly, trying to buy himself enough time to generate a believable story on the fly. “He’s in here in the bathroom freshening up,” Buck says, shrugging at Eddie as he says it. Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, making his way over to the door. “He was looking a little worse for wear this morning, between you and me.”

Eddie shoves Buck playfully as he steps past him and opens the door.  
“Morning,” he says, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him, leaving Buck alone to get ready for the day. He prays that Bobby doesn’t notice the anxiety seeping from his pores, can’t hear the way his heart is pounding in his chest. 

Bobby doesn't say anything at first, just takes a good, long minute to look him up and down. 

“What?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the flush off his cheeks. 

“I don’t have to worry about that, do I?” Bobby asks, motioning to the room. 

Eddie shakes his head, trying his best to act natural. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just had to pee.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he insists. “You know we can’t stand each other.” Bold-faced as the lie may be, Bobby seems satisfied and changes the subject.

Glancing back at the hotel room door over his shoulder, Eddie tries to silence the butterflies in his gut that have suddenly come to life after years of lying dormant. And when Buck steps into the hallway a few minutes later, curls slicked down and flashing that brilliant smile, Eddie tries to ignore the longing that's suddenly tugging at his heart. 

He’s so, _so_ fucked. 


	2. say that we'll just screw it up

When the campaign bus crosses the North Carolina border later that evening and rolls onto Virginia soil, Buck takes a long, deep breath. He exhales slowly, waiting for the anxiety to ebb from his veins, for his racing heart to settle and his shaky legs to calm themselves. 

When none of it happens, he tries again. A long breath in, a slow exhale. Again, and again he tries, but he’s still keyed up. He pretends he doesn’t know why he’s been on edge all day, but who’s he kidding, really?

Three weeks later, they’re on the road again. On the fourth night of a week-long circuit, Buck is woken up to a pounding chest, two strong arms around his middle, and promises of “You’re okay” and “I got you,” in his ear. 

His throat burns, a familiar sign he’s screamed it raw. Visions of his nightmare come back in flashes as his breathing slows and he regains his sense. He screws his eyes shut, dropping his head back against Eddie’s shoulder, still reeling. It was one of the worst ones he’s had in months. 

“Eddie,” he breathes. 

“I know,” is all Eddie says in response, running his hands up and down Buck’s arms reassuringly. “I know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says a few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Don’t be.”

“But I am,” Buck frowns. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can just ignore me.”

Eddie looks at him as if he’s suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight.  _ As if  _ he’d ever be able to ignore him. 

“I know I’m a screwed up mess,” Buck continues. He extricates himself from Eddie’s arms, standing up. 

“If you’re a screwed up mess, then so am I,” Eddie replies, ignoring the way his chest tightens at Buck’s words. He, too, rises from the bed. He takes a step closer to Buck. Whether it’s to comfort Buck or himself, Eddie’s not sure. 

“And yet, you’re the one dropping everything to deal with me.” 

Eddie doesn’t know who hurt Buck so badly– who broke him down to the point where his first instinct is to put up a wall and his second is self-sacrifice– but he loathes them with every fiber of his being. 

“Buck–”

“It’s fine,” Buck insists, cutting Eddie off. He begins to pace as he speaks. “You don’t have to do this. You signed up to stand at the door and wield your gun and check rooms and order me around.”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Eddie teases. 

Buck rolls his eyes before returning his gaze to Eddie. “You didn’t sign up to deal with this,” he says, motioning to the bed, the sheets still a crumpled mess from where he had kicked them off as he thrashed about. 

“When have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?” 

Buck knows he’s right the second the words cross his lips. Eddie’s the only person on this Earth who’s ever given him a run for his money when it comes to being stubborn. 

He sighs, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “You promise?”

“Promise,” Eddie says. He means it. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he says, stepping out into the hallway. 

Buck sleeps a little easier, knowing that. 

It’s day seven and they’re on their way home when Buck glances over at where Eddie is sitting at the front of the bus, joking around with Hen about something. His eyes are lit up as he talks, his head thrown back as he laughs at something she’s just said. He reaches across the aisle and smacks her on the shoulder playfully with the back of his hand and Buck’s breath hitches in his throat as his gaze locks on Eddie’s fingers. 

“Buck,” Maddie’s voice snaps him out of his haze. He glances back at where she’s sitting across the small table from him. “Did you hear what I just said?” 

He nods, even though he has not the slightest clue. 

“Bull,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What I was saying is that the journalist from L.A. is going to meet us on our California stop next week.” 

“Remind me again what that means?” Buck asks, wincing as the words cross his lips. He’s usually pretty good about remembering different commitments he’s made, but this one must’ve slipped the cracks. 

“You better learn to keep a calendar before you get inaugurated, I’ll tell you that much,” Maddie mutters as she digs in her bag. Buck would be lying if he said his heart didn’t tick up each time someone spoke about him being elected as if it were a given. Hearing that other people believe in him will never get old, he thinks. Never.

Maddie pulls out a blue folder with some news station logo on the front. She passes it to her brother across the table unceremoniously. “Taylor Kelly. She’s going to meet us in L.A. and join us for the day. She’ll bring a crew with her to get footage from different events and they’ll interview you, some staffers, voters, y’know, all that.” 

Buck nods, remembering a conversation about this a little while back. He reads over the outline in the folder before placing it down on the table between them and sliding it back to Maddie. “Cool,” he says. “Sounds like it’ll be fun.”

“Don’t sleep with her,” Maddie says, voice firm, a clear indication that this is more a command than a request. Buck ignores the way Eddie’s head spins around at that exact moment, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second before Buck clears his throat and looks up at his sister. 

“I’m not gonna sleep with her, Mads. Buck 2.0, remember?” 

“Uh huh,” she nods. “Totally.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” Buck has to fight to keep the smile off his face. 

“Don’t play me for a fool,” Maddie replies. 

Later, once Buck has gone to the back of the bus to grab a nap, Maddie drops into the seat across the aisle from Chimney up front with the other agents. Next to her brother, these are her very favorite people on the campaign trail and they’ve all become close since they joined Team Buckley. “Maddie,” Chim says by way of greeting. 

“Chimney,” she replies. “Hey,” she says, nudging his ankle with her shoe. “Why do they call you Chimney anyway?” 

Hen’s eyes go wide and Eddie chuckles. Bobby pretends to be really interested in whatever’s on his phone. “Don’t you dare,” Chim says, directed at Hen and Eddie in the row in front of him. They’re seated on either side of the aisle from each other, sitting sideways in their seats so they’re facing one another. If you ask Chim, they’re set up perfectly to be scheming. Hen holds her hands up as if to say  _ I’m innocent.  _   
Eddie, on the other hand, leans in and says, “I’ll tell you if you tell me what Buck 2.0 is.” He knows he shouldn’t, but dammit if he can't help himself. 

Maddie reaches across the aisle to reach into the bag of Twizzlers Chim is holding. She helps herself to a few, rolling her eyes at his mock-hurt look. 

“Deal,” she says to Eddie. “Only because he’d have no problem telling you himself if he were here right now. Buck 1.0 used to seek out meaningless sex like a truffle pig let loose in a European forest.” 

Chimney, having just taken a sip of water, promptly chokes on it. And thank God he does, his spluttering concealing the noise that came from the back of Eddie's throat at Maddie’s words. 

“He had this relationship a couple years back. Abby,” Maddie continues. Her face tightens up as she says her name, almost as if she’s eaten something sour. “He grew up a lot while he was with her. Even more so when she left. And then Buck 2.0, who you all know and love, was born.” 

“You talking about me?” 

Eddie turns and sees Buck emerging from the back of the bus. He has half a grin on his face, his hair mussed from sleep, the top button on his shirt undone and his phone in his hand. 

“Sure am,” Maddie replies, nodding at him by way of greeting. “Buck 2.0.”

Buck laughs, passing her his phone. “Check it out,” he says. “Buck 2.0 got the nomination.” 

Maddie gasps, reading the message several times over before passing the phone back and jumping out of her seat. “You did it!” she wraps her brother in a hug and squeezes him tight, the grin on his face multiplying. He passes the phone around, and the bus soon becomes a flurry of excitement. 

There’s hugging and high-fiving and excited chatter. There're a million things happening around him as the news officially breaks. The phones start ringing, social media explodes, and they can barely keep up. It’s the biggest moment of Buck's career thus far, getting the party’s nomination for the presidency - it’s exciting and overwhelming and absolute chaos.

And somehow, with so much to see and do and say, his eyes keep finding their way back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s got the faintest hint of a smile playing on his face. 

Eddie, who’s constant and grounding and  _ good.  _

Eddie, who doesn’t treat him like damaged goods, who holds him when the nightmares come back, who says  _ I got you  _ and means it.

Eddie, whose arms feel more like home than Buck’s two-bedroom on Constitution. 

Eddie, who’s ignoring the way his chest squeezes when he catches Buck looking at him. Eddie, who’s breath catches in his throat when Buck, upon realizing he’s been caught, winks at him from across the bus. 

Eddie, who knows now with absolute certainty that his suspicions from earlier are, in fact, true: he is so,  _ so _ fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short and took forever! i have no excuse other than i am trash but pls forgive me anyway!!!  
> i'm going to update again tomorrow i just have to proofread :)


	3. bad bad boy, shiny toy with a price

“Taylor is going to need clearance for after dinner,” Buck says, stepping out of his room and looking over at where Eddie’s standing a few feet off to the side. Eddie wasn’t blind in noticing how Taylor and Buck hit it off while she followed them around one day last month. Though, at the time, he took comfort in knowing it was only for the day and that they’d be rolling out first thing in the morning, leaving her 3,000 miles away. 

But now, back in L.A. four weeks later for a fundraiser, Buck had asked Taylor to accompany him and Eddie's nearly chewed the inside of his cheek raw, trying to pretend it doesn't bother him. 

Eddie can't stand the woman. Everything about her sits wrong with him, so when he caught Buck grinning down at his phone on the flight back from L.A. last month and saw Taylor’s name on the screen, it was no surprise his blood felt hot all of a sudden. 

Each time Buck mentioned her in the time since, Eddie’s chest felt tight. His stomach lurched and his skin buzzed. And when he saw her name on the itinerary for this weekend and noticed Bobby had cleared her to accompany Buck, his jaw clenched and his mouth tasted sour all of a sudden. 

Eddie scoffs. There’s no way in hell he’s granting her clearance to come back to Buck’s hotel room with him after dinner. Eddie hasn’t vetted her, and she hasn’t been cleared to be one-on-one with him. Not to mention he gets nothing but ulterior motive vibes from her. He doesn’t want her touching Buck with a ten foot pole, let alone coming back to his room after accompanying him to a swanky fundraising dinner. The idea of Buck being with someone else makes Eddie’s blood run cold, makes his stomach twist up in knots. 

He’s not jealous or anything, though. 

“Not happening.” 

“Make it happen,” Buck replies. 

“No,” Eddie says, matter-of-fact. “No way.” 

“Eddie,” Buck begins, frustration thick on his voice. 

“No,” Eddie repeats. “She hasn’t been vetted to the point of being alone with you. That process alone takes a few days. It’s not happening.”

Buck has to stop himself from stomping his foot like a child. “I trust her.”

“I don’t.” 

“Why not?”

“Not getting a good vibe,” Eddie deadpans, borrowing Buck’s line from the first day they met. “And I’m a good judge of character, you know.” 

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

Of course, Eddie’s right. Buck knows he couldn’t hate him if he tried. But he’s frustrated and tired and horny and it seems like the only times he doesn’t get what he wants are times when Eddie’s around.

“You’re not in charge of me.” Buck is well aware he sounds like a petulant child, but he's so far past the point of having any shame, there's no chance of return. 

“Oh, but I am.” Eddie had no idea four words could bring him so much satisfaction. 

Buck takes a step forward, shoving Eddie back until his shoulder knocks against the placard on the wall with the room number. Buck crowds his space, placing a hand on the wall beside Eddie’s head and leaning in close. “Fuck you, Eddie,” he says between his teeth, a full stop after each word.

Eddie takes a beat to look him over, his eyes raking over his body slowly from top to bottom and back up again. “Wouldn’t you like that,” he quips. He’s not sure what’s come over him. This is so, _so_ far over the line. And yet, his body’s giving him nothing but green lights.

All it would take is someone coming around the corner for him to be out of a job, but he wants – no, _needs –_ to see this through.

Buck feels like there are live wires beneath his skin, crackling to life as he sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth. He wants to.  _ God _ , does he want to. 

He wants nothing more than to find out if Eddie’s lips are just as soft as he’s imagined them to be. How his mouth will taste when Buck licks into it, if his teeth will nip at Buck's bottom lip. He wants fistfuls of jet-black hair and nails on his back and marks on his neck more than he’s ever wanted anything. 

Eddie puts on this facade like he’s all business, like he’s in complete control. Buck sees right past it, even now. He’s backed up against the wall, arms crossed and jaw set, all business. But his pupils are nothing but inky black pools of lust, his teeth are digging into his bottom lip and when Buck exhales slowly, his breath ghosting across Eddie’s skin, Eddie’s breath catches in his throat and his calm exterior begins to waver.

So, yeah, Buck knows he’s full of shit. Knows if given the chance, Eddie would take him apart six ways to Sunday.

And there’s nothing in this world Buck can think of that he wants more than the chance to experience that. 

Eddie’s tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip, and Buck forgets how to breathe. 

“I…” Buck begins, but he can’t find the words. He knows this is a bad idea, knows that there’s no coming back from this. He’ll have to tell the White House that he needs a new lead agent, will have to explain to everyone on his team  _ why  _ he does. 

Objectively, it’s a bad idea. 

But at the same time, Buck’s never been more turned on his life, has never wanted his bones jumped in the way he does right now. He wants Eddie. And he wants him something fierce. 

Bad ideas be damned. He’s sick of Eddie getting in the way of what he wants. And now that Eddie  _ is  _ what he wants? Well, it’s nearly too poetic to pass the opportunity up.

“Eddie Eddie, Bobby.” 

Buck’s close enough to Eddie’s ear that he can hear the message coming from his earpiece, albeit muffled. Eddie’s lips press into a straight line, his eyes screwing shut. He exhales slowly, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. “Go for Eddie.”

Hearing Bobby’s voice, the reminder of real life that it is, snaps Buck back into his senses. He pushes his hand off the wall and turns his back to Eddie, taking a long and deep breath. 

“We gotta go,” Eddie says, stepping up beside Buck. The frustration lacing his words satisfies Buck in a way he didn’t know he needed. “Car is here.”

Buck nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he manages to say. “Yeah, okay.”

When they make it to the hotel lobby, Taylor is waiting. Eddie pretends not to see the way she presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek when he wraps her in a hug and tells her she looks great. He also pretends his blood doesn’t feel like it’s on fire, but when Hen sidles up beside him and asks “What has you so bent out of shape?” he knows it’s a lost cause. 

“Nothing,” he grumbles, moving to follow the happy couple to the waiting car.

Eddie’s mind races all night. The knot in his gut hasn’t unraveled since twisting up tight at the sight of Taylor Kelly’s name on the night’s itinerary, and it’s only tightened with each passing moment he watches the two of them together. 

They drop Taylor off at her apartment on the way back to the hotel, and Eddie pretends not to notice that it’s only then that he’s able to relax. 

The following week, they’re in Iowa for a two-day visit. Buck is set to visit a local elementary school. Eddie’s staying back to get on a call with the Director of the Secret Service to go over new procedures now that election day is getting closer. He’s on edge the entire time, hardly able to focus on his conversation with his boss. He can’t get his mind away from Hoover Elementary School– he wonders what’s happening over there, if Buck is behaving for the other agents, if everything is safe and going as planned. 

As soon as he hangs up with the director, he calls Bobby, who reports that they’re on their way back now, and all went well. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, thanking him for the update and confirming he would meet them inside the hotel. 

Ten minutes later, the car pulls up and Chim radios Eddie to let him know they’re on the way up. Eddie sweeps the floor to make sure it’s still empty. He’s finished, making his way to the elevator vestibule to meet them when his earpiece beeps to signal incoming communication. He freezes. 

“Eddie Eddie, Hen.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. The only reason Hen would need him is if there was a problem getting Buck from the car to the elevator. It’s a ninety second journey, if that. His heart ticks up as his mind races with possibilities. “Go for Eddie.” 

“We’re, uh, having an issue down here.” 

Eddie’s flying down the stairs before she can get the last two words out. “On my way,” he replies. The door to the staircase slams behind him as he makes his way into the first floor hallway, jogging past rooms in his mad dash to the lobby. 

It’s then that he sees, on the street outside the revolving doors, a small crowd has gathered around none other than Evan Buckley, Democratic nominee. He doesn’t have to ask what kind of issue they’re having– he’d put every penny to his name down that Buck is insistent on staying out there until he’s shaken every waiting hand, would bet the metaphorical ranch that he’s ignoring Secret Service directives and refusing to move inside. 

One  _ help us  _ look from Hen through the glass confirms his suspicions. She and Chim are trying their best to balance controlling the crowd and convincing Buck to head inside while Bobby parks the car. 

He pushes open the manual door next to the revolving one, letting it slam behind him. It only takes him three steps before he’s beside Buck. 

Buck, who can sense the annoyance coming off Eddie in waves.

“Buck,” Eddie hisses, the smile plastered to his face a stark contrast to the frustration in his voice. “Why are there people here?”   
Buck shrugs, speaking through his own smile as he continues to shake hands with people in front of him. “Who’s to say? One of life’s great mysteries, I suppose. Why’s the sky blue, what’s the meaning of life, why are there people here?”

Hen has the audacity to laugh at this, which earns her a glare from Eddie. He turns back to Buck, leaning in close to his ear so he’s the only one able to hear his next words. “I’m  _ this close _ to seeing to it personally that you lose phone privileges.” He would pinch his forefinger and thumb together to make his point, but there are cameras everywhere and that’s a photo worth a thousand words waiting to happen. 

“Lighten up, Eddie,” Buck replies, flashing a smile. He turns back to the crowd before him, and notices a woman holding hands with her toddler. She has a baby on her hip, too, and is trying to balance both kids and the tote bag that’s slipping off her shoulder. “Ma’am, please, let me help you with that!” Buck exclaims, smiling wide as he grabs the bag from her arm just before it slips to the ground. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide at the sight of Buck holding this stranger’s bag. A bag that likely has diapers and bottles and toys inside of it, but could have a bomb or a gun or any other number of things that could kill Buck on sight. Eddie takes the bag from Buck’s hands before he has time to react, passing it back to the woman and turning Buck around in one swift motion.

“Get. Inside.” Eddie hisses, taking Buck by the arm and practically dragging him through the double doors. He doesn’t let go of his hold on Buck’s elbow until they’ve made it through the lobby and into the elevator.

“What in the everloving  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?” Eddie demands, punching the button for the campaign’s floor angrily. He turns to face Buck, his hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

Buck shrugs. “I mean, I feel like it probably wasn’t your favorite thing I’ve ever done.” 

“Why?” Eddie demands. “Why would you do something so incredibly stupid?”

“I wanted to help!” Buck says defensively as the elevator doors open and they step into the hallway. He lowers his voice as not to cause a scene. The truth is, it took his brain a few beats in the moment to catch up and realize what he was doing wasn't smart. But at that point, he was in too deep. Hindsight 20/20, he knows it was wrong, knows it was dangerous and stupid and if roles were reversed he'd have knocked the bag from Eddie's hands without a seconds hesitation. But he'll be damned if he gives Eddie the satisfaction of knowing he's right. “Besides, the added bonus of getting you riled up like this is just too good to pass up.” He unlocks the door to his room, turning back to face Eddie with his hand on the door handle. 

Then, deciding to throw all caution to the wind and bust Eddie’s balls even further, he adds, “Taylor was busy, so this was the next best thing.”

Eddie takes a step forward, into the room and into Buck’s space. The door swings shut behind them. “Don’t,” Eddie says. 

“Jealousy looks good on you, Eds.” 

Eddie freezes. That feeling– the one where his stomach knotted up when Taylor was around, how his blood ran cold when Buck asked for nighttime clearance, when his jaw clenched when she kissed his cheek– it was jealousy. Although he couldn’t pinpoint it before, even though he mistook it for anger and annoyance, he knows now that Buck has hit the nail on the head. There’s not a shadow of a doubt that this is the big green monster rearing its ugly head. 

The realization nearly knocks him off his feet. He has no reason to be jealous. He can’t be. Because if he were jealous it’d mean it’s because he wants Buck for himself and that… 

He snaps out of his thoughts, shooting back, “Who said I’m jealous?” 

Buck scoffs. “You’re greener than Kermit the fucking frog and you know it.” 

Eddie’s had enough of this, thank you very much. The smug looks, the lingering touches, the way Buck’s goading him even now, coaxing Eddie to the edge just to run the other way at the last minute. This time, he wasn’t going to give him the chance to. 

He crowds Buck against the wall. He leans in, their faces only half a breath apart, Eddie’s hands on the wall on either side of Buck’s head. “Maybe I should just give you what you want,” he practically growls.

Buck smirks. “Yeah. Maybe you should.” His eyes drop to Eddie’s lips, then back to his eyes, daring him.

And then their lips are meeting, and a shock courses through Buck’s body at the feel of Eddie’s lips on his. His skin buzzes beneath Eddie’s touch, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as Eddie licks into his mouth. 

Eddie’s fingers knot in Buck’s hair around the same time he notices how perfectly their mouths fit together, how Buck’s body pressed up against every inch of his somehow feels like uncharted territory and coming home all at once. 


	4. said "i'm fine" but it wasn't true

After Iowa, everything changes. The very last remains of any walls that ever existed between Buck and Eddie have crumbled to dust, not a shred of evidence left in their wake. Sure, much of the legwork on busting them down had been done in the preceding weeks and months.  But that night in the Council Bluffs Hilton, just shy of the Nebraska border, it was like it all finally made sense. 

And now, weeks later, Eddie still finds his thoughts consumed by it. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Buck asks, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts as he drops into the seat beside him. They’re on the campaign bus, heading back to campaign headquarters after a particularly long day in Boston. It’s almost two in the morning and they still have another hour left until they’re back in Maryland. 

“Iowa,” Eddie says, voice just shy of a whisper. They’re the only two up here, save for the driver. Everyone else is in the back, behind the drawn curtains that separate the two sections of the bus, sleeping or trying to.

Buck smiles knowingly. He can relate. Despite there being several more instances since then in which he’s swapped spit with Eddie, none of them have come close to that first night. “Makes the long days pass quicker, doesn’t it?” 

“Damn straight.” He leans back against the headrest and returns Buck’s smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

“You okay?” Buck asks, frowning. 

Eddie nods. “Fine.”

“You can talk to me, you know,” Buck longs to reach over and take Eddie’s hand in his own, to squeeze it reassuringly and press a kiss to his temple and promise him it’ll all be okay, whatever it is that’s got him so out of sorts. 

But that’s an act  _ far _ more intimate than the one in Iowa that involved his hands fisted in the bedsheets and Eddie’s nails on his back and the words  _ oh God _ crossing his lips so many times the room might as well have been consecrated. 

It’s a line he knows not to cross, though it doesn't make him want to any less. So instead, he nudges Eddie’s foot with his own.

Eddie sighs, some of the tension leaving his body as he exhales. “Christopher tried to call me earlier to say goodnight and I missed it,” Eddie says, defeat thick in his voice. “I don’t know how. But I missed it and as soon as I realized and called back, he was asleep. Shannon had him over the weekend and then we went away and I won’t see him till Thursday. I just… I don’t know. I just miss him.”

“Take off tomorrow,” Buck says without hesitation. 

“What? No,” Eddie shakes his head. “That’s not why--”

“I know it’s not. Still, take off,” Buck insists. “I’m serious, Eddie. You should be with your kid.”

“I made a commitment to--”

“Your commitment is duly noted and appreciated,” Buck cuts him off. “But I suddenly don't really give a shit about it." 

"Buck."

"I’m not doing anything tomorrow anyway! It’s a catch-up day, so I'm essentially off,” Buck says. “The closest thing I'll be doing to leaving home is sitting on my front steps while I wait for Postmates to pull up.” 

“You still need protection, even if you’re sitting on your couch all day.”

“Fine,” Buck shrugs. “Then bring Chris with you.”

“What?” Eddie’s taken aback. That wasn't on his radar, wasn't anywhere close to being in the realm of possible outcomes he saw for this conversation.

“Yeah,” Buck nods, the idea fleshing itself out even more as he speaks. “Why not? You’ll be there as my ‘protection,'" he says, making air quotes. "You get to spend time with your kid and I can help you keep him busy. Sounds like a win-win-win to me.” He smiles, though it soon falters when he realizes–– “Unless you don’t want me to meet him. I totally get it if you don’t, I know it––”

“Of course I want you to meet him,” Eddie replies, not missing a beat. He can’t believe Buck would ever think otherwise. 

The worried frown melts away from Buck’s face, his brow relaxing and the light returning to his eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie nods. “He asks about you all the time.”

Buck tries to ignore the way his heart beats just a little bit faster knowing that. He quickly puts the pieces together, and as each one clicks into place, his chest feels just that much warmer. Christopher asks about him, which means Eddie must talk about him at home, which means Eddie’s thinking about him outside of work, which means… well, Buck doesn’t actually know what that means. 

He just knows the realization that Eddie’s thinking about him as much as he’s thinking about Eddie makes his blood feel really hot under his skin all of a sudden. 

“You better not be talking smack about me to your kid.”

“Oh, every night,” Eddie deadpans. “He prefers it to a bedtime story.” 

And so, when Eddie gets out of the car a few minutes before ten to tag out the night agent on Buck’s doorstep, he has a four year old in one hand and a cardboard carrier with two cups of coffee in the other. 

Buck opens the door before Eddie and Chris can make it up the short path from the curb. He comes down the front steps, beaming. “Chris, buddy, this is…” Eddie freezes, unsure of how he should introduce Buck. Apart from Carla, he calls most other adults in his life Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so. Alas, that feels far too formal for the guy standing in front of them barefoot, in a Backstreet Boys tee shirt. 

“I’m Buck,” he cuts in, saving Eddie. He drops down to Christopher’s level. 

“Is that your real name?” Christopher asks, looking up at his Dad for confirmation. Eddie bites back a smile. He's always called him Buck when he tells Christopher stories about work and the campaign trail, and somehow this question has never come up until now. Eddie raises an eyebrow at Buck, curious to see how he responds. 

Buck drops down to Christopher’s level and leans in, as if he’s letting him in on the biggest secret in the world. “Nope,” he says. “But it’s what my friends call me. And I have a feeling you and me, we’re gonna be friends.” 

Eddie smiles, watching as Christopher’s face lights up. “My friends call me Chris.” 

Buck extends his fist, which Chris eagerly pounds with his own. “I’m glad you’re here to hang out, Chris.” 

They walk to a park a few blocks over from Buck’s townhouse, Eddie trailing a few steps behind Buck and Chris, who have become fast friends. The two of them are walking hand in hand, engaged in an animated discussion about Legos. Eddie isn’t sure why his stomach does a little bit of a flip. He wonders, briefly, if he ate something funny yesterday.

When they get to the park, Christopher is insistent that “Bucky” be the one to push him on the swings. On any other occasion, Eddie would be left feeling a little dejected at that, but for some reason he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. He does wonder when “Buck” turned into “Bucky,” but Buck is rolling with it (read: Buck can’t keep the grin off his face each time Chris says it) so he is, too.

He takes a seat on a nearby bench, watching the two of them fondly. A woman on the bench beside him leans over. “Cute family,” she says, a warm smile on her face. 

Eddie’s heart stops beating for a second, he’s sure of it. Thankfully, the sounds of children playing nearby conceal the strangled sound he’s just made in the back of his throat. He almost shakes his head, moves to correct her, but at the last second he just settles for a nod. 

“Yours, too,” he says, glancing over at the nearby sandbox where her two daughters are digging together. 

They walk to a pizza place over on 12th street, where Buck, much to Christopher’s delight, teaches him how to fold his slice. 

“Your dad probably never taught you this, since he grew up in Texas,” Buck says, scrunching up his nose in fake-disgust. That earns him a giggle from his new friend. “But you’re an east coast kid, Chris. This is a skill you need to know and master. So that when you grow up and make friends from weird places like Texas,” Buck makes the same grossed-out face, ”You can teach them what’s up.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and Buck pretends he doesn’t feel warm all over all of a sudden. 

As they’re getting ready to leave, Eddie can tell Christopher is exhausted. One look at his eyes and Eddie knows he’s a few minutes away from a complete meltdown, one of epic toddler proportions. He knows there’s not a shadow of a doubt that the walk back to Buck’s, however short it might be, will be a big tear-fest if they don’t get going soon. 

Not only is he a four year old who’s spent the last few hours running around, but he’s got CP and his legs have got to be killing him. Each of the several times Eddie had asked him how he was feeling, he insisted he was good and wanted to keep playing. But now, looking at him, Eddie wonders if he was trying to be brave, pushing himself to his limits and possibly past them in pursuit of what he wanted. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall so far, after all. 

Buck notices the way Eddie’s got his eyes locked on Christopher, concern in his eyes as he chews on his bottom lip. He catches Eddie’s eye, raising an eyebrow by way of asking  _ What’s going on? w _ ithout actually saying the words. 

When Eddie tells Christopher to throw out his now-empty juice box, he turns to face Buck. “He’s exhausted. I just… I shouldn’t have let him play so hard. He’s gotta be so tired, with his CP and–” The words tumble from his lips so quickly they nearly blur together. He stops mid-sentence when Christopher returns, turning to face his son with a big smile. “Ready to get going?” he asks. 

“I have an idea,” Buck says, looking at Christopher with a mischievous grin. Before Chris can respond, Buck is scooping him up and placing him on top of his shoulders. Christopher squeals in delight, placing his tiny hands on the top of Buck’s head as he strides out of the pizzeria. 

That funny feeling from earlier is back in Eddie’s gut, twisting and squeezing. Buck didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter for a single second before giving Christopher exactly what he needed. Eddie can’t think about it too much or he thinks his chest might squeeze so tight his organs will turn to mush. 

As they walk back to Buck’s house, Chris gets a kick out of Buck calling out, “Duck!” every time they near a low-hanging tree branch, giggling and dropping his head as Buck makes a show of crouching down. Eddie watches every second of it and he tries to keep it together, wills himself to hold on and to not stop Buck dead in his tracks and kiss him senseless.

They manage to get back to Buck’s, where, much to Eddie’s surprise, Chris goes down for a nap in the guest room without even the smallest shred of a fight. His eyes close almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Once Eddie has closed the door behind himself and tiptoed back down the hallway, he steps into the kitchen, where Buck is leaning against the counter reading something on his phone. The afternoon sun is coming through the open blinds, casting him in a deep glow. He’s still wearing that worn-in Backstreet Boys tee shirt, the black fabric stretching across his biceps as he pockets his phone upon seeing Eddie in the doorway. No disrespect to Brian, Nick, AJ, Howie, and Kevin, but Eddie wants nothing more than to see it on the floor. 

He crosses the room in three steps, his hands landing on Buck’s chest as he leans in, pressing their lips together. 

This is… different. It’s not quick, heavy, dirty like the rest of the kisses they’ve shared. No. It’s slow and deep, Buck relaxing into Eddie’s touch, a soft hum escaping from the back of his throat. This means something. 

“What was that for?” Buck breathes. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

“I just…” Eddie can’t find the right words to convey what he’s feeling right now without running the risk of freaking Buck out and sending him running for the hills. It’s not like he can tell him that he feels like he might start melting into a puddle on the wooden floor, how his heart feels like it might split right down the middle watching the two of them together. So instead, he kisses him again. 

Eddie wonders if he’s crossing a line. Scratch that, he  _ knows  _ he’s crossing a line. It’s more like he wonders if Buck is aware the line is so far in Eddie’s rearview he’d need to gun it in reverse for a while before he could find it again.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, taking a seat beside Buck on the front steps. He passes him a beer, two of which he grabbed from Buck’s fridge on his way out here. Carla came by a few minutes after Chris woke up to bring him home for dinner and bedtime. Eddie would be lying if he didn’t think that, with just the two of them here until a night agent comes to relieve Eddie in a few hours, it feels too quiet. 

Buck nods, looking out at the quiet street and taking a long pull from his bottle. “Fine.” It’s right up there with the biggest lies he’s ever told. He’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. 

Eddie let him in on this precious corner of his world and now it’s all he wants. He’s had a taste of what a life with Eddie might look like and as it turns out, it’s all he never knew he wanted. He dreads the world he’ll wake up in tomorrow when the bubble’s been popped and he isn’t laying on the asphalt in Lincoln Park while Christopher traces his body with sidewalk chalk, isn’t pushing him on the swings. He doesn’t want to experience another day where he isn’t making eyes at Eddie across the table at a pizzeria while Chris prattles on about PJ Masks, when Eddie isn’t nudging his foot under the table and rolling his eyes when Buck and Chris start to get silly.

Buck’s been a lot of things in his life. He’s been a child, a son, a brother. A decorated Navy SEAL. He’s been a congressman and a cabinet member and the President of the United States. And yet, his favorite thing he’s ever been is Bucky. 

He’s Bruce Bogtrotter, this day with Eddie and Christopher his slice of stolen chocolate cake. Being here with the two of them, hearing Christopher giggle in response to one of his jokes, watching Eddie’s eyes light up and his smile reach his ears each time he lays eyes on his son – it feels forbidden in the very best way. 

And if a mean old wench were to put him before a crowd and sentence him to more of it in sickening amounts? Well, that’s a punishment he’d gladly accept.

And yet, Buck can’t shake the sickening feeling brewing in his gut. This isn’t his future, as much as he might want it to be. 

He and Eddie, they’re friends. That’s it. Sure, they’re friends who use each other to get off, to ease the pent-up tension – sexual and otherwise– that comes as a side effect of life on the Presidential campaign trail. 

They’re not… they don’t do feelings, they don't cross that line, they just… they don’t. Buck knows it’s unfair, knows he can’t exactly look Eddie in the eye and go,  _ Hey Eddie, I think I’m falling for you.  _ Eddie signed up for heated kisses, hand jobs in closets and hotel room rendezvous. He didn’t sign up for feelings and declarations and he sure as shit didn’t sign up to thrust his child into the wild world of D.C. politics. 

So, Buck bites his tongue. And as much as he hates to lie to Eddie, he knows it’s far better than the alternative. 

And when Eddie asks again, he tries to play it off, tries to change gears and lighten the mood. He knocks Eddie’s shoulder with his own, taking a sip of his beer. “What, are you obsessed with me or something?” he asks playfully. 

Eddie laughs, bringing his beer to his lips in an attempt to keep himself from slipping up, from nodding and saying  _ I might be.  _ He wants to tell Buck this was one of the best days he’s had in years, that he doesn’t want to go another day without the promise of another like this on the horizon, that he wants more than just secret hook ups and stolen glances. 

But if all goes to plan, Buck is going to be President in a few months. He’s going to be the leader of the free world, the most powerful man in the country. He doesn't have time to be playing house with one of his employees. And even if he did, would he want to? The realization stings as Eddie swallows it down.  He can’t tell Buck how he really feels, can’t open himself up for the rejection he’s certain will come. 

So instead, he just rolls his eyes and says, “Or something.”


	5. i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating and tags updated on account of 2500 words of smut hehe

Eddie hasn’t worked the night shift in a while, something he’s been eternally grateful for. Since August when the nominees were announced, Secret Service presence on the Buckley campaign increased significantly. More agents around meant Eddie was able to designate a team of night agents, which meant no more night-shift rotations among the core team, _hallelujah_. 

But then Eddie brought Chris to Buck’s for the day. And he hasn’t been able to shake the nagging feeling, the itch for  _ more.  _ It doesn't help that Christopher has been asking for Buck literally every day. The fact that his son wants to spend time with Buck just as much as he does makes Eddie feel warm all over. And yet, at the same time, it makes his chest feel tight, makes his breath catch in his throat as he remembers it can’t happen. 

So he ruffles Christopher’s hair and changes the subject, tries to shove his own feelings down and focus on anything other than the buzzing beneath his skin at the thought of the man he’s sworn to protect. 

And it’s been nearly a week of this and he’s been trying to act normally at work, has been trying his best to be himself, but it’s  _ hard _ . It’s so goddamn hard, being so close to Buck and feeling that tug in his chest and forcing himself to focus, to bite his tongue, to keep his feelings tucked away. 

Day seven of this fresh hell and Eddie’s had enough. He just… he needs a break. So he takes a week off, and switches to night shift for a few days on his return. The thought is that a few days with Christopher followed by a few shifts without actually seeing Buck’s face the entire time might do him some good. 

And Buck…. Well, Buck’s waking thoughts are consumed by the Diaz boys. He’s so far gone it isn’t even funny. The realization that he feels more for Eddie than an appreciation for the way he can use his mouth behind a closed door hits him like a punch to the gut. 

He wants him. He wants Eddie, and Christopher, and summer days spent in the park around the corner. He wants hushed conversations in the kitchen while Christopher sleeps down the hall. He wants teasing and grinning and he wants Eddie’s lips on his, soft and tender and saccharine sweet as the sun sets between the cherry blossoms lining the streets. 

It makes him sweat, makes his palms itch, thinking about how badly he wants it. He doesn’t want to keep secrets just to keep Eddie. But the thought of coming clean– telling Eddie how he really feels, admitting he wants more– and being met with rejection? The chance that he’ll lose Eddie forever? It makes his jaw clench, his breath come quicker, bile rise in his throat. It’s simply not an option. 

So he says nothing. 

It’s been a week to the day since he had his revelation on the front steps, sitting beside Eddie. He’s gone seven whole days without saying anything, and he thinks he might explode. He thought it’d get easier, but then again, he’s never been good at shoving down his feelings. 

Buck thinks that maybe it’s the stress of Election Day only a month away, maybe it’s the pressure he’s feeling to be everywhere at once, maybe it’s because he’s a 36 year old man who still makes irrational decisions every once in a while (sue him), or maybe it’s a combination of the three that leads him to call Taylor. 

Deep down, he knows he’s full of it and the real reason lies in how his pining for Eddie’s got him wound so tight he feels like a rubber band about to fucking  _ snap.  _

Regardless, he calls Taylor. It’s not like he called her up in the middle of the night and asked her to get on a cross-country flight or anything. Though, had she not already been in D.C. for work, Buck isn’t sure he wouldn’t have. 

But she’s here, in D.C. Which Buck knows because she emailed him last week letting him know she’d be in town. He’d ignored it at the time, genuinely uninterested.    
But now, everything’s changed and Buck is now very much interested in anything that might give him the slightest chance of getting his mind off Eddie. 

Eddie lets himself into Buck’s apartment a few minutes before ten. Hen is inside, sitting at the kitchen counter. “Hey,” she greets him, rising to her feet. “Welcome back, boss.”

“Hey yourself,” Eddie says, glancing around. “He’s out?” he asks. 

She nods, then leans in as if she’s about to tell him a juicy secret. “On a date.” 

“A date?” Eddie repeats, trying his hardest to keep the jealous edge off his voice. “With who? Are they cleared? There are agents with–”

“Relax,” Hen says. Eddie takes a beat, the rate at which words just flew from his mouth registering. “It’s Taylor. So she’s already cleared. There are two agents with them, so don’t worry.” 

_ Taylor.  _ Eddie’s stomach churns. 

“And no one ran this past me because…?” 

Hen doesn’t miss the bite to his words. “He only told us a couple hours ago, just a few minutes before he took the car to go get her.”

“I’m the Special Agent in Charge, I need to know these things!” Eddie protests. His blood feels too hot all of a sudden. 

“Not today you weren’t,” she points out. “You’re working the night shift, so Bobby ran point during the day. He took care of everything.” 

Eddie takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. He knows Hen doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his Buck-fueled near-meltdown. 

“Not for nothing, we’re pretty good at our jobs,” Hen adds. “We learned from the best.” 

The compliment within her words softens him, brings him back to reality and out of his thoughts. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Hen,” Eddie says. “I just…”

“You worry about him,” she says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I get it.” 

Eddie doesn’t bother lying, knows it’s written all over his face. “Yeah.”

“He’ll be back soon, I’m sure. That Taylor girl doesn't have much going on between her ears, I can’t imagine the conversation is scintillating.”

Eddie cracks a smile at that. He says goodnight to Hen, settling into the quiet of the house as the door closes behind her.

Sure enough, one of the other agents radios in a few minutes later  _ the Eagle is flying, repeat, Eagle en route home.  _ Eddie ignores the way the buzz beneath his skin sparks back to life. Eddie meets the car at the curb, opening the door to the backseat. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Buck groans by way of greeting. He rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t see his own brain. 

“Evening, sir,” Eddie says, a wide, fake smile plastered on his face. Buck scoffs, stepping out of the car. 

“You coming in?” Buck asks, turning to where Taylor is still sitting in the car. 

She takes one look at Eddie before saying, “You know, I’m actually just going to head back to my hotel.” 

“You sure?” Buck asks. And if Eddie’s not mistaken, there’s a hint of hurt lacing his words. 

She nods. “Yeah. Early morning. Thanks for dinner.”

Eddie closes the door, tapping the side of the car twice to signal the driver to pull away. 

“You ruin everything,” Buck hisses, shoving past Eddie and storming up the front steps. Eddie stands, stunned, on the sidewalk for a second before he snaps back into his body and follows Buck inside. Buck, who stomps down the hallway and into the kitchen, slamming each door behind him for good measure. Eddie steps into the kitchen a second later, eyes locking on Buck as he crosses his arms across his chest. “What the hell has gotten into you?” he asks, voice calm, even. 

“You ruin everything,” Buck repeats, his words dripping with anger as he grabs a glass from the cabinet beside the sink. The sound of the running faucet as Buck fills his glass nearly drowns out his saying, “Everything.” 

“Gonna need an example here,” Eddie replies. 

“You ruined my date just now and you just...you ruined my life.”

“I  _ what _ ?” 

“I hate you so much,” Buck says, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can think twice and stop them. He takes a sip of water to distract himself from the fact that he's such a fucking liar, it's not even funny.

Eddie knows as well as anyone that Buck has an affinity for dramatics, but this is a bold statement even for him. Eddie pretends it doesn’t set his heart on fire. 

“No, you don’t.” 

Buck wants to agree, wants to tell Eddie that he’s right, and that there’s no world in which he could ever hate him, just the world in which he loves him – this world. It’s agonizing, hiding his feelings in order to keep Eddie around, and he’s had nearly enough of it, thank you very much.  But knowing that his confession might very well bring an end to this arrangement– the thought of losing Eddie for good– stops him in his tracks. 

So instead, he says, “Fine.” His admission seems to placate Eddie. At the very least, he releases a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.  “But I wish I did,” Buck continues, an edge to his voice. “It would make being around you easier.” That part’s true, at least. He shakes his head, turning around to leave. 

Eddie reaches out, a hand on Buck’s elbow. “Buck.” 

“Don’t,” Buck says, voice breaking. He yanks his arm back from Eddie’s gentle grip, water sloshing over the lip of the glass in his hand and dribbling onto the floor.

“Come on, Buck!” Eddie calls after him as he walks out. Buck stops at the top of the stairs, turning around to face him, standing two steps below the landing.

“What? You have a problem with me leaving? Walking away? Can’t imagine why, you’re the master of it.” The layers of anger and hurt coating his words are so thick, he's not sure he's ever heard his voice sound like this. 

Eddie’s breath stops for a second. “So that’s what this is?”

“You didn’t sign up for this,” Buck says. “I get it. Believe me, I do. I just didn’t think you’d actually tap out.” 

“Tap out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he climbs the last two stairs, standing at the top of the landing just a few feet from Buck.  _ Is that really what he thinks?  _ “I just needed a break.” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m a pain in your ass.”

Eddie takes a step forward at that. “I needed a break because I spend every minute of every day thinking about you. I can’t focus. All I think about is getting my hands on you.” 

Buck’s mouth falls open a little bit at that, the realization crashing into him and nearly knocking him over. His mouth runs dry as Eddie’s words ring in his ears. “Eddie, I–”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Eddie asks, his voice low. _Of course he does_ , Eddie thinks. Why else would he be with Taylor tonight if not for that same distraction Eddie so desperately needed? “God, it’s like I can’t even think– I can’t breathe– sometimes. I just… I needed a break.” 

Buck puts the glass of water down beside a lamp on the side table pushed up against the wall behind him, then takes a step, closing the distance between them. He surges forward, and then his lips are on Eddie’s and it feels like someone stuck live wires beneath his skin. “Yeah,” Buck breathes. “I do know what it’s like.” 

He can feel Eddie grinning against his mouth, can hear the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s neck, stepping backwards down the hallway, tugging Eddie with him. They don’t stop kissing as Buck feels behind his back for the doorknob. It takes him a second, but he gets his hand on it and turns, the two of them stumbling into his bedroom amid soft laughter and quick kisses. 

Eddie kicks the door shut behind them, which Buck takes as his invitation to back Eddie up against it. Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat as Buck presses up against him, his hands on the wall on either side of his face as Eddie's hands find Buck's waist. 

“God,” Buck says so quietly he’s not even sure he said it out loud. “I want you so bad.” 

Their eyes meet and there’s something unspoken there, something that tells Buck his fears are unfounded, that Eddie’s not going anywhere. He runs a thumb across Buck’s bottom lip, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Then have me,” Eddie breathes. 

Buck doesn’t have to be told twice. He tugs at Eddie’s tie until it’s loose enough to yank over his head and toss haphazardly onto the floor somewhere behind them. Eddie’s hands move down to Buck’s hips and his fingers dig in, sending a fresh round of sparks down his spine. He drops his head, pressing a line of kisses down Eddie’s neck, relishing in the way Eddie’s head tips back against the door, the way his grip on Buck’s hips loosens as Buck sucks a mark into the soft skin at the junction of his neck. 

Buck’s nose brushes up against the clear coiled wire that runs from Eddie’s ear and disappears into the collar of his shirt. “Can I?” he asks breathlessly, the wire between his fingers. 

Eddie can’t think of a single thing any of his agents might need that would be more important than taking Buck apart right now. He nods, letting Buck pluck it from his ear and let it fall against his shoulder. He leans forward to pull the small receiver off of the back of his belt. While he’s at it, he pulls his badge and holster off too, walking Buck forward until he’s able to set everything down on the dresser. 

Eddie steps forward until the back of Buck’s knees hit the bed. “Get this off,” he says breathlessly, tugging at the hem of Buck’s shirt. “Now.” 

He strips down himself, his heart pounding as he watches a very naked Buck scoot back on the mattress until he’s propped up against the headboard, his legs spreading as his fingers wrap around his cock. 

Eddie’s on top of him in a matter of seconds, dropping to his elbows and pressing a filthy kiss to Buck’s open mouth. 

Buck lifts his arms, bringing his hands to rest above his head, giving himself fully to Eddie.  Eddie settles between Buck’s thighs, his hands running down his sides, his fingernails raking against his skin and earning him a breathy moan.

Eddie presses a wet kiss into the inside of Buck’s thigh and Buck’s eyes screw shut. He does it again, this time sucking a mark into the tender skin. Buck knots his fingers in Eddie’s hair, breath catching in his throat. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Eddie murmurs from between Buck’s legs. He looks up to see Buck color at the praise, his cheeks flush and his pupils blown with lust. There were a lot of things Eddie loved about sleeping with Buck, but his praise kink might just be his favorite. It was the second time they slept together that Eddie (and Buck) learned that Buck had praise kink, when Eddie’s whispered “oh  _ fuck _ , yeah, like that,” sent him over the edge out of nowhere.

Eddie flicks his tongue across the tip of Buck’s dick, then licks a stripe up the side before moving to his other thigh. “Eddie,” Buck whines as Eddie kisses his way up to Buck’s hip.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums against his skin, nosing along his happy trail. 

Buck sounds absolutely wrecked when he says, “Please.” 

The punched-out noise he makes when Eddie stops teasing and finally takes him into his mouth might just be Eddie’s favorite sound in the world.  Buck’s fingers twist in Eddie’s hair, holding him in place. When Eddie looks up through his lashes, lips wet and cheeks hollowed out, Buck has to remind himself to breathe. 

The feeling of the back of Eddie’s throat against the tip of his cock has Buck choking on a moan as stars explode behind his eyelids. He’s not going to last. Before he can open his mouth to get the words out, Eddie’s pulling off and moving up to kiss him. It’s then that Buck realizes that at some point, Eddie learned his body better than he knew it himself. 

He’s never been more turned on in his life. 

“Ride me,” Eddie breathes between kisses, and Buck can’t believe he thought he was turned on before. 

He nods, grinning against Eddie’s mouth. Eddie rolls off him long enough to grab lube and a condom from the drawer he knows Buck keeps stocked for these purposes. A flash of jealousy courses through him as he remembers Taylor earlier, how Buck had been expecting her to come inside. How she had alluded to possibly spending the night. His blood feels too hot beneath his skin, his jaw clenching as he stares down at the box of condoms. 

Buck must sense Eddie’s mood shift, must notice the way he pauses with a hand still on the brass knob to the drawer. “What?” he asks, voice laced with worry. He sits up, resting on his elbows as he searches Eddie’s face for an explanation. “Eddie, hey. We can stop. Do you want to stop?” 

The concern in Buck’s voice brings Eddie back. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. The _last_ thing he wants to do right now is stop. Then, before he can stop himself, “Were you going to sleep with her?” 

“No,” Buck says without hesitation. “Never. We’re just friends.” 

Eddie nods. He knows Buck wouldn’t lie to him (he also knows Buck’s too smart to even try lying to him) but still can’t shake the burn of the jealousy moving through his veins with each beat of his pounding heart. 

“Hey,” Buck says, placing a hand on the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie leans into the touch instantly. Buck has to force himself to ignore the way his chest squeezes at that. “I’m yours.” 

Eddie surges forward at that, taking Buck’s lips in his as they fall back against the mattress. 

“Mine,” Eddie says. He likes the way it feels on his tongue. 

“Always,” Buck says, enjoying the way his words are met with a bitten-back moan from Eddie.  And then his hands are everywhere, on Eddie’s chest and back and hips and Eddie can’t breathe in the very best way. 

The snick of the lube bottle opening cuts through the quiet of the room, followed by a ragged breath from Buck as Eddie presses a finger inside him. He settles into a rhythm, Buck eager to rock his hips up to meet each thrust of Eddie's finger. 

“So good for me,” Eddie murmurs, adding a second finger. Buck moans. He’s so hard it hurts. Eddie’s fingers scissor inside him and he feels like he's on fire in the very best way. When Eddie's fingers find his prostate, Buck’s without a doubt that his insides have liquified, that there’s nothing but goo where his bones once were.    


Fuck, please,” he practically begs. Eddie leans down, pressing a kiss to his lips as he adds a third finger. Buck is pretty sure he wouldn’t mind fucking himself on Eddie’s fingers every day for the rest of his life. Eddie’s rhythm is steady, Buck’s hips coming up to meet each thrust. The slow burn of Eddie’s fingers has desire pooling at the base of Buck’s spine, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore with each thrust. 

He pouts when Eddie pulls back, sitting back on his ankles. It doesn’t last long, a grin creeping onto his face as he watches Eddie roll the condom on and slick himself up. He sits back against the headboard before meeting Buck’s eyes with his own. “C’mere,” he says. 

Buck moves immediately, slinging a leg over Eddie’s thighs and straddling his lap. “Yeah, like that,” Eddie says as Buck settles, his feet flat against the mattress, his back arching as Eddie guides himself in. 

At first, it's just the tip, Eddie teasing him as he moves himself in small circles around the tight ring of muscle. Buck shudders, his fingernails digging into Eddie's thigh as he rides out the wave of pleasure coursing through him. Eddie's driving him crazy, and if the corner of his mouth tugging up and the lust pooling in his eyes are any indication, he knows exactly what he's doing.

And then he pushes in all the way and Buck can't believe he ever thought he could live without this. He swears he leaves his body for a second.  “Fuck, Eddie,” Buck breathes, rocking slowly. He’ll never get sick of this, will never tire of the sear of Eddie’s skin against his, the press of their bodies moving as one. 

“Jesus,” Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, his head tipped back against the headboard as Buck begins to move. Buck lets out a little laugh when he sees how absolutely wrecked Eddie looks. 

He plants his hands firmly on Eddie’s chest as he moves himself up and down on his dick. Eddie looks up at Buck and wonders how he could have ever been so stupid to walk away, even if only for a few days. 

He anchors his hands to Buck’s hips, fingers digging in as Buck works himself up and down. He’s teasing, nearly pulling off, only to slam his hips back down, earning himself a sharp hiss from Eddie. His grip on Buck’s hips eases up as a wave of pleasure rolls through him, a breathless moan crossing his lips as Buck does it again. And again. “You’re so good for me,” Eddie says, panting, the words carrying multiple meanings. 

“Love when you get jealous” Buck says, breath ragged. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he says, “As if Taylor–”

Eddie has his hands on Buck’s hips, flipping them in an instant, before Buck can finish his sentence. Buck’s back presses into the mattress, a mischievous grin on his face as Eddie snaps his hips. “As I was saying,” Buck says between shaky breaths. 

His fists ball up the sheets beside him, little moans and sharp breaths punched out of him with each thrust of Eddie’s hips. “C’mon,” Buck says, voice raspy. “Fuck me like I’m yours.” 

Eddie nips at Buck’s bottom lip in response before nudging at his wrists. Buck gets the memo, bringing his hands up above his head and nodding eagerly. When Eddie’s hand comes up to hold Buck’s wrists in place, Buck bites his bottom lip so hard he nearly draws blood. “Yeah,” Buck hisses, rolling his hips. “That’s it.” 

Eddie will never get over seeing Buck like this, fucked-out with lust-blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips parted in ecstasy. His long eyelashes flutter as his back arches, a moan ripping from his chest as Eddie pounds into him, his pace relentless. The headboard smacks against the wall and Eddie’s never been more grateful for the night shift and the government budget cuts that resulted in his being the only agent in the house tonight. 

“Gonna–” Buck breathes. “I’m close.” 

Eddie too. Every nerve ending in his body is alive, his skin vibrating as he drinks in every bit of Buck he can. Buck’s hands come down from above his head to find Eddie’s back, the feel of smooth skin and toned muscle beneath his fingers punching his breath from his chest. 

“C’mon,” Eddie all but growls, wrapping his fingers around Buck’s cock and pumping once, twice. “Come for me.” Buck’s orgasm rips through him as Eddie’s lips find the hollow of his neck. He comes with a gasp, heels digging into the mattress, fingers no doubt pressing bruises into the skin of Eddie’s hips. Eddie’s just a moment behind him, snapping his hips one last time before his vision whites out. He sucks in a long, deep breath before pulling out and dropping his head to Buck’s chest. 

It takes a minute, but once Buck’s bones have reformed and he thinks he can move again, he runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “That was amazing,” Eddie murmurs into Buck’s chest, tracing lazy lines up and down his side. “You’re amazing.” 

“Was gonna say the same about you,” Buck says. “We should fight more often if that’s how it’ll end.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Buck smiles at how soft Eddie looks, glancing up at him through his long lashes, his cheek still pressed against Buck’s bare skin. He crawls up and drops a kiss to Buck’s lips. 

“Come over tomorrow,” Eddie says a minute later from where he stands in the bathroom. His voice is muffled by the running faucet, and Buck is positive he must’ve misheard him. 

“What?”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says, stepping back into the room with a warm, wet washcloth. He sits on the edge of the bed, wiping Buck’s chest clean. He drops a kiss to Buck’s collarbone, then one on the side of his neck, the hinge of his jaw, his lips. He knows full well he’s toeing the line in doing so, knowing that the action is well past fuck buddies and halfway to lovers. But he doesn’t care. And if the soft noise Buck makes when Eddie's lips meet his skin is any indication, he doesn't mind it one bit. 

“Spend the afternoon with me and Chris. I know you’re off and he’s been asking for you.” 

“Okay,” Buck doesn’t hesitate. 

“Yeah?” 

Buck smiles, nodding. It’s the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Yeah.” 

He pouts when Eddie stands up a while later and starts looking for his clothes. “No, stay.” The words surprise him as they cross his lips. Aside from aftercare, they’ve never been affectionate after sex. Affection is a feeling, after all, and Buck promised himself he wouldn’t catch feelings. 

They don't do this. They get off and move on. No staying, no cuddling, no pillow talk.  Though, if Eddie’s caught off guard by Buck’s request, he doesn’t let it show. 

Instead, a sad smile crosses his face. “I wish. But I’m technically working,” Eddie reminds him. He wonders how long it’s been since they ripped his earpiece out, how long he’s been unreachable. Whatever, they could’ve called his cell if they really needed him. “The only thing worse than a crazed killer breaking in and trying to kill you is a crazed killer breaking in and trying to kill you while I’m naked and without my gun and radio.” 

Buck can’t argue with that logic. “Fine,” he says, a yawn taking him by surprise. He watches Eddie dress shamelessly. 

“See something you like?” Eddie teases. 

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, clipping his radio back to his belt and adjusting his earpiece. “Get some sleep, Buck.”

“Eddie?” Buck calls out just before Eddie steps into the hallway. He turns around, the light from the hall shrouding Buck in a warm glow. “You’re coming back to the day shift, right?” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way his words are laced with a hopeful tone, they way the corners of his mouth pull up, his eyes bright. 

Eddie nods, “Next week.” Then he smirks, just shy of provocative when he says, “Though, I’m starting to see the benefits of the night shift.”

"You and me both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this took forever and a day! i went back to work and intended to just be gone a day or two while i readjusted and that turned into.... 24?? but i'm back babyyyyy!  
> there's a very good chance this chapter's a hot mess from start to finish seeing as it's unbeta'd as well as my first time writing smut, so bear with me and please gimme allll the constructive criticism in the smut department!  
> love y'all, hope you're taking care of yourselves <3


	6. i love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter jumps ahead a bit! it also ties in with the first story in this verse, 'you make me feel it'

It’s a year to the day since Buck was elected that a gun’s fired in his direction, one of the bullets lodging itself in Eddie’s vest as he throws his body in front of Buck’s. 

It’s a year and _one_ day since Buck was elected that he accidentally tells Eddie he’s in love with him. Technically, there was no telling, just hushed arguing, words half-whispered, half-shouted. 

Eddie’s loved Buck from the day he met him and chewed him out at a rally somewhere along the Bible Belt. Sure, that love manifested itself in a variety of ways along the weeks and months spent on the campaign trail, and even more so as the dynamic between them changed when Buck moved into 1600 Penn. It took him some time to realize it, but it’s clear as day now: he’s completely and totally, absolutely irrevocably in love with one Evan Buckley. 

It’s not exactly a new development, just one he’d been shoving down, tucking his feelings away in a triple-locked box on the top shelf in the furthest corner of his mind. The thought of confessing his feelings and losing Buck as a result was so terrifying, so all-consuming and panic-inducing that Eddie was resigned to the fact that Buck could never know how he felt, could never hear those words cross Eddie’s lips. 

Never mind the fact that Eddie’s distraction at the hands of Buck nearly got them both killed. He could live to be 200 years old and still feel sick over it. So he pulls back, puts up a wall between them. Keeping Buck safe is far more important than Eddie’s feelings will ever be, he’s damn sure of that. 

But then Buck says it. He all but shouts it at Eddie in a staircase in the Capitol building, storming out and rushing back into his meeting before Eddie has a chance to answer, let alone register his words. And Eddie’s head is fucking spinning. 

_ I know we don’t do this and I know I’m so far out of line here but screw it. I am so fucking done pretending that I’m not in love with you. _

Buck’s words swirl around in Eddie’s head, consuming his thoughts. He can’t think, can’t  _ breathe _ . 

Buck loves him. 

Holy shit, Buck loves him. 

And then they’re in the rose garden at the state dinner, and Eddie has half a mind to tell him then. He says his name, reaches out for him, the words on his tongue. But Buck is toeing the line of completely wasted and Eddie just… he  _ needs _ him to hear him out, needs him to be sober enough to understand that the reason the other day was such a close call is because Eddie’s so hopelessly in love with him he let it get in the way of doing his damn job. 

_ Trying to figure out why I’m not enough for you is the last fucking thing I need to be worrying about right now. _

Eddie’s left standing in his wake, trying to figure out why he can’t ever get out of his own goddamn way. 

“What’s up with you?” Bobby asks him the following morning, as they stand outside the Residence waiting for Buck. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Eddie doesn’t even have it in him to roll his eyes. “Long night, is all.”

“You ever gonna tell him?”

Eddie freezes. “Tell who what?”

“Tell Buck you love him,” Bobby says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the word. Which it might as well be at this point, with the way Eddie’s moping around. 

“Bobby, I–” Eddie tries to protest, but Bobby cuts him off before he has a chance. 

“Don’t even,” he says. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other. And let’s not forget I was in the car with him in the minutes after you were shot.” 

Eddie sighs, shaking his head. “It was just sex.” 

“But it hasn’t been _just sex_ for a while,” Bobby assumes. 

Eddie nods. “I can’t get out of my own way. I just… I love him,” he says, and there it is. It’s out in the world, the truth he’d been so careful to hide for so long. The ceiling hasn’t fallen in on him, the ground hasn’t opened up and swallowed him whole. Hm. Imagine that.

“I love him,” he repeats, liking the sound of the admission as it crosses his lips. “And I know it’s selfish. I know I can’t do this job and have him, not in the way I want him.”

“And what way is that?”

“I want all of him,” Eddie admits. “Birthdays and holidays and vacations and weekends with Chris. I just... I want a life with him." 

“Have you told him that?” 

“No,” Eddie replies, taking a long, deep breath. “No, Bobby, I can’t. I almost got both of us killed last week because I let my feelings get in the way of doing my job. I can’t let that happen again. I have to just move on.” 

Bobby looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Are you kidding?” When Eddie shakes his head, Bobby continues. “Eddie, no one blames you for that. You did everything you were supposed to and more. He’s alive because of you, you realize that, right?” 

Eddie shrugs. “That man loves you more than anything,” Bobby says. “If you can’t see that, you’re blind.”

“He’s the president, Bobby. He’s got more important things to do than come play house with me.” 

“I don’t think he sees it like that,” Bobby offers. Then, after a moment passes in comfortable silence, he adds, “Tell him, Eddie. Then deal with the rest when it comes.” 

So, Eddie does.  It had once seemed like the wall Eddie put up between them was a mountain of unrepentant reinforced steel, but it turns out it was never anything more than chewing gum and spit, crumbling to dust on the Oval Office carpet with just five words. 

_ You’re all I want. Always. _

And when Buck’s lips find his, Eddie thinks he might follow that godforsaken wall’s lead and melt into the floor. 

When Eddie steps out for Buck’s next meeting, Bobby sidles up next to him, a knowing look on his face. “Told you,” is all he says. 

Eddie cracks a smile at that. “Yeah,” he says. “You did.” 

“What now?” Bobby asks after a moment. 

Eddie shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“Are you going to be reassigned?” Bobby asks. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “I’ll do anything I can to stay, though I can’t imagine the director’s going to love the idea.”

“You’d be surprised,” Bobby says. “This is child’s play compared to what they had to deal with during the Kennedy administration.”

“Touche,” Eddie grins. 

Bobby claps him on the shoulder. “Well, if you decide to leave, I know Athena would jump at the chance to have you at the Bureau.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Eddie says, though he has no intentions of ever leaving. Hell, they’ll have to drag him out kicking and screaming. His stomach twists up at the thought of ever handing over Buck’s detail, loathes the idea of even working another assignment within the White House. He’s meant to protect Buck, and he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. 

Later that night, once Eddie’s finished his shift and Buck’s retired to the Residence for the day, Eddie sneaks into the presidential bedroom. 

“I love you,” Eddie says. It’s sometime in the middle of the night, once they’ve crawled back into bed after showering off the several rounds of mind-blowing sex that commenced immediately upon Eddie’s arrival. The words tumble out of his mouth so easily, cutting through the silence so simply, like a sharp knife moving through warm butter. 

As they hang in the air between them, Buck’s breath catches in his throat. He looks up at Eddie, grinning like the devil. Eddie lets out a dry laugh. “And I’m not just saying that because you just fucked me within an inch of my life.”

Buck leans down, kissing Eddie fiercely. “Felt that was important to clarify, huh, loverboy?” 

Eddie’s lips curl up into a smile against Buck’s. “Yeah.” 

“I love you so much,” Buck says, running a thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“Not going anywhere,” Eddie says. It doesn’t seem to placate Buck much, his eyes glistening, distant as Eddie runs a hand through his hair. He just nods, looking wounded. “Hey,” Eddie says, sitting up. “Talk to me.” 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Buck says, his voice small. 

“Leave?” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I just… I don’t want to do this without you.” His voice breaks. 

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, voice low and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But Bobby told you–”

Eddie’s heart drops at that. He’d never meant for Buck to hear him with Bobby earlier. 

“I told Bobby I’m in love with you,” Eddie says. “And that I’ll fight to stay here, that I’ll do whatever it takes to ride this Presidency out with you. As long as that’s what you want.” 

Buck grins, running his thumb over Eddie’s cheek affectionately. Eddie melts into his touch instantly, taking a long, shaky breath. Buck presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, never more sure of anything than when he says, “I want you however you’ll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for reading! i had fun with this one :)


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